To think again as a child would be bliss.
The grey spring skies mean nothing but that
I have to play inside.

I may whine, but with the distraction
of character macaroni and my favorite show,
I'll survive.

I'll see with my big green eyes
puddles to jump in and
spring coming alive.

A wonderful life with no stress,
nothing but my head to rest
on my father's shoulder as I go to bed.